All this to say, the frequency of my posts for the next two weeks will be subject to 1) how well I can figure out the Trib's P2P on this thing, since it looks kind of weird and for some reason the toolbar has vanished and I don't know how to link to anyting and 2) hostel Internet access, and 3) the likelihood that me and my friends Bojo and Trinetti will meet a gaggle of Icelandic princesses who want us to hang out on their North Sea luxury yachtland (that's an island made out of a yacht).
This trip has already been too epic to even write about in a blog post, because before I hopped on Icelandair at JFK, I spent the weekend in New York where I had the most bizarre, hilarious celebrity encounter of my life to this date. I don't even want to tell you about it here, it's so good. I'm literally going to hold that story for ransome until someone publishes it in a book. Following the story I refuse to tell you because it's so good, however, I got into Iceland last night/this morning/not sure.
So all I can really tell you is that I couldn't sleep, there was some Eurotrash douche bag sleeping in my bed in my 10-bed hostel room, and now I'm writing this while looking out over a bay cupped in the palm of low snow-capped mountains with spikes of golden morning light cutting through the slate-gray clouds overhead--otherwise known as an image I can't share with you because I don't know how to upload pictures from my camera to this iPad (I believe there's some cordage I'm missing).
What I'm saying, guys, is I'll do my best, I really will, but I suggest keeping an eye on this page, Facebook, Twitter, and possibly Icelandic social gossip columns in case those princesses pan out.